


Hide&Freak

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Shower Sex, Teasing, i guess it has a plot, sort of, ten is weak in the knees for hansol and he kind of hates it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bangkok had been their most demanding trip yet, though Chittaphon thought the worst part of it was the poking and prodding from other members to take advantage of the roommate situation and make a move.<br/>It wasn't like he didn't want to.<br/>He just was too busy being dazzled by the other man to remember how to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide&Freak

On a day like this, Chittaphon should've felt nothing but unmitigated relief at finally heading back to the hotel room for a chance to shower and rid himself of the grime. There wasn't an inch of his body that wasn't soaked with sweat, which became glue between his skin and his clothes. It seeped into cracks he hadn't known existed. By the way the other rookies sighed and their shoulders slumped with the release of tension after bowing to the audience, and the way they unashamedly shook their heads like dogs to get the drenched fringe out of their eyes, Chittaphon knew they definitely felt some sort of alleviation from the stress of performing.  
At least, he hoped his own worry was the remaining stress of performing. After-show jitters, or something. Okay, yeah, he'd completely made that up in the moment as Ten wracked his brain for possible explanations, but it was probably a phrase somewhere in the world, right? 

And it would've been the perfect fit (read: excuse), except for the fact that Chittaphon was completely averse to stage fright. Starting his (sort of) career at a very young age, he'd been cured of that early on. And normally, he'd be thankful for that unnatural confidence. Just not when he was trying his damned hardest to delay his acceptance and/or realization that he had been paired up for a hotel room with the one man in the entire company who could strip him of all that bravado with one look and stuff him back into the turtle's shell Chittaphon didn't know he had. Maybe it only existed for Hansol.  
Despite his attempts to keep his mind off of the situation, it didn't help that his just-as-sweat-soaked-roommate was seated next to him in the packed van, and that white button-up outlined the Korean man's abdominals way too finely for his comfort. If Ten had thought his sweating problem had been bad before this moment, it only got worse from there. How was he supposed to share a room, even if just for a night before heading back to the dorms, with this perfect mess?  
Hansol was irrevocably, undeniably, and unfairly hot. Like, "Greek god" gorgeous. Chittaphon could handle cute. He could handle the bajillion other good-looking people just waltzing around the SME building like nobody's business, but he could not handle Hansol, and it made him hurt like no other. 

Usually, Chittaphon was a ball of charm (if he said so himself), and getting what he wanted was easy. Silver tongue, golden boy. His confidence was not limited to the dance floor, and his determination, even less so. In fact, he was usually the first to leap into projects. He was good friends with every one of the members. And dammit, if he didn't have a pretty face he'd been putting to use long since before joining the company.  
And yet, he was stone under Hansol's gaze. He could not speak. He could not concentrate. He could not do anything other than stare — and according to Yuta, Ten had a huge staring problem. Even a word (or just a glance) from Hansol had him crumbling to pieces, stuttering and tripping over his own feet. Naturally, it had made the other members very concerned, and after having the truth wrung out of him, Chittaphon could not even think about the Busan man without Mark's psychic ass hissing "Ten and Hansol, sitting in a tree—" thankfully, in quieted and somewhat halted English.  
So now, there wasn't a moment he didn't worry about the subject of desire in question noticing the huge-ass crush Chittaphon had been trying to keep hush-hush since he'd met the guy. And it was a million times harder when his eyes had a mind of their own and kept sliding left to peek at the way Hansol's sleeves were rolled up now, and—  
"Are you okay?" The man next to him asked, lowering the magazine clenched in his (strong, beautifully veined) hands to glance at Ten, whose sweating issue had worsened considerably in the span of a few seconds.  
"Yeah," He squeaked in reply, before reddening and clearing his throat, trying to reclaim some of his dignity. "Just— after-show jitters."  
Chittaphon mentally slapped himself, not once, but twice. 'Can I die, now?' He begged whatever gods were out there.  
"'Kay." Hansol shrugged, and returned to his literature. Ten waited a few long seconds before releasing the tension in his shoulders and letting out a long exhale, as stealthy as he could make it, and turned to glare out the window. Donghyuck, courtesy of Johnny's inability to keep his mouth shut and a complete lack of tact, would never let him live it down.  
Said tattletale sniggered at Ten and pointed, none too discreetly, with his head to Hansol as the boys entered the hotel, each breathing a sigh of relief at returning to the (temporary) homestead from the successful concert. Bangkok had been their most demanding trip yet, though Chittaphon thought the worst part of it was the poking and prodding from other members to take advantage of the roommate situation and make a move.  
It wasn't like he didn't want to. 

He just was too busy being dazzled by the other man to remember how to speak.  
His head whirling and his chest threatening to burst open with how wildly his heart thumped against it, Chittaphon ascended the winding stairs to their floor, and entered the room after Hansol. Regardless, he plunked into a chair soon after, the promise of rest too enticing to ignore for much longer. He fanned himself with his shirt, releasing a thin breath as the room's AC helped to cool him down.  
Meanwhile, across the room, the blonde Korean man let his shoulders go, his usually serious and tight posture finally fading as the relaxing atmosphere that usually accompanied hotel rooms set in. It was something that Ten had only seen once before, but was fascinated by all the same. Hansol really only gave him a moment of admiration, though, before the taller man trudged towards the closet, fishing out a couple towels and finally acknowledging Chittaphon's presence with a line that stopped the younger's heart cold.  
"Do you want to take a shower together?" Hansol said so casually, Ten wondered if his fruitless yearning had decided to torture him further with auditory hallucination.  
The Thai boy took a couple seconds to process he other's words, and to realize that he was no longer breathing. He gulped air, and despite him being the only other one in the room, his eyes flickered to his sides, before raising a trembling hand to point at himself. 

"Me…?" His voice was a mix of excited anticipation and fear, akin to a child who had just discovered Santa Claus and didn't know whether to expect the worst or the best of the opportunity crawling out the fireplace. Hansol's expression turned quizzical, before he continued his walk towards the bathroom.  
"You don't have to, if you're uncomfortable with it," He replied, his softened tone lost on a frazzled Chittaphon.  
"No! Uh, I mean — yeah, I do," He trips all over his words, rising from the chair faster than the voice of better judgment (which sounds suspiciously like Doyoung) can tell him to think it through, and trails Hansol to the washroom. "I'm super sweaty from the show."  
Had Ten showered with other members before? Yes. Was this normal and completely non-intimate for their group? Also yes. But did that stop Chittaphon from acting like a complete fool and going beet red as Hansol unbuttoned his overshirt? No.  
The latter threw another confused glance his way, and Ten finally realized that he was frozen in the doorway, staring somewhat intensely at the man before him. Clearing his throat, he entered the bathroom at last, tugging at his own shirt collar.  
With the sound of the shower warming up besides them, the two peeled sticky articles of clothing from their frames, backs facing each other.  
A million different conversation starters flitted through Chittaphon's head at the speed of light, each worse than the last, and ranging from 'The weather's nice today,' to 'Can I touch your biceps, just once?'  
Freeing himself from his disgusting clothing, Ten let loose a shaken exhale, trying to be calmer about the situation.  
It worked, until he remembered he was going to be not two feet from Hansol, the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and butt naked.  
Before he could become overwhelmed enough to faint, the other trainee interrupted his thoughts.  
"The water's warm enough. Do you want to get in?" 

Ten looked over to respond, before averting his gaze from Hansol's form and nodding meekly. It felt indecent to even meet eyes with the other, and Ten hoped his burning face wasn't as noticeable as it felt. Stepping away from the atmosphere made awkward only by his own fragility, and into the shower, he let out a sudden shudder and sighed of relief as the clean water poured over him, smiling unabashedly at the feeling.  
Chittaphon ran his hands through his hair, and over his face, letting the water seep into every crack and crevice previously coated with perspiration. His toes curled in the thin layer draining from his body, the dirt on their soles washing away. Ten could confidently say he believed in miracles, because the feeling of a hot shower after hours upon hours of dancing his ass off was nothing short of one.  
He didn't realize Hansol had joined him until he saw a tanned arm reaching around him for the shampoo, making Chittaphon very aware of how close the former's chest was to his back.  
"S'all right to wash your hair?" Hansol murmurs, his voice deepening in a way that makes Ten want to melt right there. Instead, he grunts in reply, busying himself with staring at the ceiling.  
Everything is in high definition and his senses are on red alert, due to the other man's presence. The pop of the bottle cap and the slide of the shampoo into Hansol's hand is all much too loud, though it's nothing compared to the sound of Chittaphon's ribcage, rattled by each heavy thump of his heart. His chest feels constricted, and his throat tightens even more so as Hansol slips his slicked hands into the former's hair, working through with the utmost care. It's amazing how soft his strong hands are in another's hair, and the way he massages Ten's scalp is heavenly.  
Maybe he's overreacting a little. But in the moment, he's too focused on keeping the soap out of his eyes and basking in the attention. It doesn't last long, though, because Hansol washes the soap out of his hair soon after and reaches past him again to grab the soap bar. 

"Back's next," Hansol warns a split second before the soap bar touches Ten's spine. The older man's hands soon follow, trailing over the dancer's shoulders and neck, making their way to his waist in a way that leaves him breathless even if Chittaphon knows that wasn't Hansol's intention.  
In fact, it's when those gentle hands finally sweep up Ten's sides that he finally loses it. A breathy moan escapes him as his skin drinks in the touch, and the blood rushes downwards in a split second to make the man painfully aware of the boner he's sporting.  
The room is completely quiet, except for the pitter-patter of water showering them from above. This time, being clean does nothing to alleviate his embarrassment.  
Hansol's hands withdraw silently, the memory of his fingers on Chittaphons's hips still fresh in the latter's mind. It's a full minute of heavy silence between the two, before Hansol breaks it, and Ten finds himself wincing even before really hearing the other's words, convinced they will be condemning.  
"It's alright. I wouldn't mind if you… did it here," Hansol murmurs, and — is Chittaphon imagining it? — there's a hint of eagerness laced into his tone that makes Ten's heart start racing again.  
He doesn't respond, allowing himself to slowly accept what the other man had just offered, before letting loose a shaky breath.  
He hesitates, and his cheeks burn under what is likely Hansol's gaze, before his hand snakes forward to grab his length nervously. Even the light pressure makes him quiver, though Chittaphon suspects it's half because of Hansol watching. Another moment of hesitation, in which he casts a glance behind him to gauge the other trainee's mood.  
'I wasn't ready,' Ten realizes as warm waves of arousal sweep over him, just the same his gaze travels over Hansol's torso (he doesn't dare look lower), and an expression that really sends a shiver down his spine. One that communicates with its half-lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed cheeks, and barely-noticeable shaking shoulders that Hansol is just as wrecked as Chittaphon feels.  
He quickly turns back around, and his cheeks (as well as his ears) are surely on fire. He wants to shrivel up out of pure embarrassment, but goddamn, if he doesn't really, really wanna do this now. He brings a fist up in front of his mouth, and whether it's to conceal any moans or provide comfort, he doesn't bother deciding. Biting his lower lip, Ten starts a first stroke.  
He's enormously underestimated how well he can keep himself under control, because the hand at his mouth does nothing to cover up the gasps he emits. All he can think of, over and over, is that expression, and those large eyes — fixated on him. His other hand keeps pumping, tugging heatedly at himself, as he stops trying to hide anything. The erratic pants seem a ways away, other than the incessant tightness of his throat. Chittaphon's completely lost in the mere reminder that Hansol is here, standing behind him, watching him jerk himself off.  
And finally, Hansol stops just watching. Ten feels another hand slip into the one previously covering his mouth, bold fingers intertwining with his and squeezing gently. The distance between their bodies is closed, as the other man steps forward and his chest is pressed against Ten's smaller back. And finally — fuck, yes — Hansol's other hand slides under Ten's, enclosing around his shaft with a firmer grip.  
"Fuck," is all Chittaphon can mumble, barely registering the actions in the world of pleasure combine with the excitement at being touched that envelops him as Hansol thumbs at the tip, dragging his nail oh-so-lightly over the slit in a way that makes Ten's dick throb. 

And god, it's never throbbed like that.  
"What are you thinking about?" Hansol's suddenly at his ear, hot breath tickling Ten's neck. The younger man groans at the teasing, his hips bucking with a will of their own.  
"You," Chittaphon replies breathlessly, and can barely believe when an actual whine escapes him as Hansol goes again over the head.  
"What about me?" Hansol whispers again, barely concealing his own want. Ten can practically feel the other man's eyes sliding over his body, and hell if it isn't amazing.  
"You're watching me," he groans, "Please, just — just touch me." He hates himself for complaining, but the dramatic change from on the way to release to nothing is starting to get to him, as he wriggles in Hansol's grip expectantly.  
"Do you like it?" The other man continues his soft interrogation, though he heeds Chittaphon's request. Hansol begins to move his hand along the other's length, though at an exaggeratedly slow pace, with the same firm hold. His fingers trail over the subtle veins, electrifying Ten's senses. 

"I like it," The younger man is near gasping again, his chest constricting, and heat pooling around the base of his cock.  
"Yes!" He exclaims more decisively when Hansol gives a rough tug, and begins to pump at a more regular pace. Chittaphon can feel lips at his neck, as light and gentle as the hand he's holding, which squeezes, as if to remind him it's there.  
But it fades into a blur again as the younger man moans relentlessly, low and drawn out with each movement of Hansol's other hand. He's thumbing at the underside, pressing on the ridge between the head and shaft, paying religious attention to the sweet spot Ten didn't know he had. Kisses spread along his jawline, and there are teeth at his ear. The hand loses contact with his own, traveling down to rub at his sides and ghost over his chest. Hansol's touch is completely unlike his own, surveying the entirety of Chittaphon with a kind and wild movement that makes his head jerk back, eyes to the ceiling and mouth opened in a soundless pleasure while he thrusts uncontrollably into the other's hand. And though he can barely feel it because of the way Hansol's near fucking his cock with his hand, there's the other's own member barely brushing up against the small of his back.  
Chittaphon can't help but lean towards the touch, and the groan that falls from the previously quiet Korean man's lips is liquid gold. Addictive liquid gold, because all the younger man wants now, is more. In the haze of pleasure, he grabs ahold of Hansol's arm, tugging him forward so the taller man's dick is pressed up against him, so close he even feels the way it shudders as the other chokes back a moan. The hand at his front has lost its hold, and Ten can't say he doesn't care. He misses it like hell. But as he looks back at the other man, testing the waters, he finds the glazed-over expression and irregular, heated breathing entirely worth it. 

And in a way, maybe Chittaphon's conquered his fear of talking to Hansol, because with an itching need to come he's turning around and rutting against him, begging with the breath he has left for the other man to fuck him into next week.  
Hansol doesn't miss a beat complying, and before Ten knows he's being hoisted up against the shower wall, his arms around the other's neck and his head laid in the crook, and his legs clinging to Hansol's form. Incomprehensible swear words in Thai fall from his lips in a flurry of noise between breathy gasps as Hansol wraps his hand around him once again, slicking his fingers before they pry at Ten's entrance. And they slip in, as hot water from the showerhead rains upon the pair, and Ten wonders vaguely in the midst of it if they've used too much. The thought flutters away as Hansol finally pushes into him, in one full thrust hitting something he'd forgotten existed.  
Chittaphon near explodes into pieces as the blonde man fucks that spot over and over, dead-on every time. All thinking whatsoever ceases to exist, as Ten's mind is reduced to scraps, his words a discombobulated mess of shaken, lost moans. He doesn't dare move, and it's not a problem, because Hansol does it all for him. Hands creep up his back, and then fingers twirl at his hair, and the lips return to their rightful place at his shoulders. Chittaphon feels nothing and everything at once, but most of all the overwhelming sensation of Hansol sliding roughly back and forth inside him, loosening the make-believe screw atop his release.  
"Hansol," Ten mumbles, his voice raw, just to test on his tongue. He doesn't expect anything back, but he gets it anyway.  
"Chittaphon," Hansol whispers pleadingly into the crook of his neck, and it's so little, but it's what sends him over the edge.

His grip on Hansol's neck becomes tighter and tears prick at the corner of his eyes from overstimulation, as he finally comes all over the latter's chest, the name repetitive on his lips. With a shudder, Hansol gives a final thrust, letting out a long moan as he releases into the other man.  
It takes a full minute for either of them to recover, spent in silence except for heavy pants and the pitter of the water. Hansol lowers Ten as softly as he can, though he makes no effort to pry the other from his neck. Chittaphon peels off after another few, his breathing a bit more regulated and his thoughts a little more consistent. As his eyes regain focus, he trains them on the other man, only to find his gaze returned.  
"Can I kiss you?" Chittaphon wonders aloud hazily, and it's the first he's seen when he gets a smile in return. He makes a mental note; it's as beautiful as the rest of him.  
"Can we get cleaned up, first?"

**Author's Note:**

> ok its been for e v e r since i wrote smut & i wouldnt have done it without all the poking and prodding from maria (ily m friend) no matter how much i wanted to. it was actually super fun to write and i'm super embarassed by it because it's /porn/ but i am still really proud of it and i hope you like it all the same. thank you for reading!


End file.
